Tag: self-reflection

‘Twas the Night Before Business School Decision Day

‘Twas the night before business school decision day, and at this point, I’m just glad to have a house.

Last night, I returned from perhaps one of the least logistically lucky trips of my career – two turbulent flights to and from NOLA: one cancelled, one significantly delayed – and found that the heater in my apartment had broken at some point during the last week. It was 40 degrees inside when I first called my landlord, and no warmer when he confirmed the diagnosis of a “broken induction fan,” or something. My room stayed cold all last night, and after a restless night bundled up in every blanket in the apartment, I promptly awoke and left for the warm respite of the Deloitte office.

Today, I luckily secured my most basic of human needs: the HVAC guy did a bang-up job. (W.C. deliberate; he fixed the heat but broke one of my Harry Potter bookends.) I sit now at the desk in my kitchen, listening to a Greatest of Stevie Wonder album and the occasional L passing by, in a balmy 70-degree heat, just having finished a simple dinner and showered after working out. I am now protected from the cold, with a full belly and luck that appears to be on the up-and-up.

The latter has hopefully arrived just in time. Tomorrow is the first day of business school decisions.

Upon Further Review: Why I Write

When people first hear that I wrote a book, they generally think that I’m nuts – either admirably or clinically – and embark on a line of questioning that can occasionally sound accusatory: Why write a book? Didn’t you get writing out of your system in college? How could you even find the time?

These are all good, well-intentioned questions – and I’ve wondered how to answer them ever since I started writing Agnostic-ish as a recent college graduate. The truth as I came to understand it was that I didn’t have just one motivation, but a whole host of them. I wrote my book because I thought that I had a message worth sharing, one that I thought could do some good for folks from my hometown. I wrote to help myself stay relaxed after work, to connect with my family and friends, and to challenge my assumptions about Christianity. And, in the words of Tim Ferriss, I wrote to “scratch my own itch” for a book about religion that wasn’t vitriolic or divisive or out-of-touch with modern science. It takes a village of motivation, I found, to pony up and write a book; without any one of the aforementioned, I’m not sure that I could have written a (faux-)professional, (debatably-)readable final product.

But those answers aren’t really satisfying, are they? Most folks seem to agree that they’re not, and upon further review, I agree. The real reason for why I wrote a book is deeper – it must be – and after reflecting more on the question of “why,” I think the best way to uncover the truth may be to first turn to a broader question: why write at all?